


Relaxation

by Starofwinter



Series: Gotal Aliit [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mild breeding kink, Oral Sex, Post-Season/Series 02, Trans Din Djarin, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex, ambiguous timeline, honestly this was written for an audience of Me but you're all welcome to read, marked as complete but will be updated, this has feelings now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:14:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28168320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter
Summary: “C’mere,” Boba says, exasperated as he watches Din checking his blasters over for the thousandth time.Din looks up at him, but he doesn’t move except to set his blaster aside.  “What is it?”“You’re upsetting everybody stalking around with your back up like a pissed off akk.  I’m gonna fuck it out of you if you need to relax that bad.”  He says it plainly, his arms crossed over his chest.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Boba Fett, Din Djarin/Boba Fett/Fennec Shand
Series: Gotal Aliit [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077830
Comments: 37
Kudos: 775





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is easily the most self-indulgent and blatantly horny thing I've ever written and I'm not sorry.

“C’mere,” Boba says, exasperated as he watches Din checking his blasters over for the thousandth time. 

Din looks up at him, but he doesn’t move except to set his blaster aside. “What is it?”

“You’re upsetting everybody stalking around with your back up like a pissed off akk. I’m gonna fuck it out of you if you need to relax that bad.” He says it plainly, his arms crossed over his chest. 

That seems to knock the kid for a loop, and he rocks back in his seat. “I don’t-”

“Take your buyce off, I know. You don’t have to take it off for me to fuck you senseless over the comm hub, if it’s that big a deal for you.”

There’s silence for a while, and then Din asks, “What’s in it for you?” 

It’s not a no, at least. Fennec’s suggestion had been to drug his caff, and Boba doesn’t think any of his chems are still good. “Kid, I haven’t fucked anybody in the last five years except a couple of moisture farmers. I like variety.”

Din stands up, rolling his shoulders, looking like he’s ready to throw a punch. “Maybe if you beat me in a fight.”

Boba rolls his eyes, his head following the motion despite a smirk Din can’t see. “Really? I’m offering to get you off and you want a fight?” He should have known. This kid would face down the Ka’ra and offer to fight all of them, especially in a mood like he is now. He’s not old enough to say it isn’t enough to get his blood up.

“Why? Think you can’t keep up?” 

That’s cute. He’s studied Din, his fighting, his gear. He’s not a close quarters fighter. Tracked his bounties from a distance, took them down with that rifle of his, and dragged them in while they were unconscious. Quick and easy. Didn’t have to look them in the eyes, because under that beskar, he’s a bleeding heart. Close quarters fighting though, the heavier armor gets unwieldy - good for taking hits, but not for maneuverability.

He can take this little upstart. Instead of answering, he crowds in close, throwing well aimed punches, and keeping his eyes on the subtle shifts of Din’s weight. They go back and forth, and Boba is grinning beneath his helmet as he gets Din crowded back toward the kitchenette. A well-placed knee just beneath the breastplate, and he grabs the back of Din’s neck and spins him to shove his chest to the tabletop. “Last chance to say no,” he growls as he sets his helmet aside, and chuckles as he catches the elbow Din throws back.

Din is panting, and he makes a soft noise as Boba presses down on his crotch plate. He nods though, and the shiver that runs through him as the plate slips off and his flight suit comes unbuttoned is both visible and satisfying. 

“You want me to stop, just say the word,” Boba murmurs, skimming his gloved fingers over Din’s bare skin, feeling the twitching tension in his belly. He pulls his hand away to tug his glove off with his teeth. “Look at you, being such a good boy. Wouldn’t know you’ve been ready to take on the Empire with nothing but your own hands for the last week.”

Din jerks, squirming again, and Boba pinches the inside of his slick-soaked thigh. “ _ Behave. _ ” He smiles when Din goes still. “You just need a firm hand, someone to tell you that you don’t have to be in charge, don’t you?”

He kicks Din’s feet apart, tugging off his own ven’cabur to grind against him, relishing the sound of panting filtered through helmet speakers. So he’s a quiet one. He can change that. Boba goes to his knees - maybe a little more stiffly than he would have a handful of years ago - and smirks as he buries his face between Din’s soft thighs, his hands wrapped around his calves to keep his legs open. 

Stars, Din is so slick and warm under his mouth, his cock throbbing as Boba swirls his tongue around it. That gets a breathless little  _ ah- _ and he chuckles against his slit. “Let me hear you,” he purrs, and he doesn’t miss the way Din’s thighs twitch, “Come on, sweetheart. I want to hear how good I make you feel.” 

“Fett!” Din writhes as Boba fucks his tongue into him. “ _ Fierfek- _ ”

It’s so easy to get him worked up, and Boba’s far from finished with him. He slips fingers into him, working Din open slowly, curling them to make him swear and gasp, clenching around them. 

He eats Din out like a last meal, not caring how his slick drenches his mouth and chin, dripping down to his throat. He  _ loves _ how fucking messy he is, how he’s obviously trying to bite back the broken sounds he’s making, trying and failing to keep anyone else from knowing how much he’s enjoying himself.

Boba sucks on his cock again before he pulls off. “Want you to come for me,” he says, his breath ghosting over Din’s dick, and he smirks as it twitches, “I’ll be here to catch you, promise. I’m not going anywhere.” He leans in again, flicking his tongue over the tip as he curls his fingers, and that’s all it takes for Din to moan his name as he comes, the orgasm rippling through him as he shudders apart on the table, panting and writhing while Boba works him through it, only stopping when Din gets a leg between them and shoves him back.

He stands up, waiting as he takes a moment to slip his own plates off, sighing in relief as he can get his cock out. He’s just about to ask if Din wants him to go when the  _ brat _ asks, a smirk audible in his voice despite how wrecked he sounds, “Is that all you’ve got?” 

Boba rolls his eyes as he palms his cock, looking down at Din, sprawled out on the table with his hands still shaking where they’re wrapped around the edges of the table to brace his weight. “Look at you,” he says softly, “Fuck, I’d keep you right here all the time if you’d let me.” It’s a good image, and he strokes himself as he looks him over. “We could sire a new generation of Mandalorians, just think about it.” He doesn’t miss the shudder that runs through Din at that. 

He presses a hand on his backplate, pinning him down as he slowly slides into him. “ _ Fierfek _ , you’re tight,” he breathes, and Din huffs a laugh as he clenches around his cock, earning another choked curse. “Brat.” 

He doesn’t waste time playing around now - he’s so hard it hurts, and he’s getting closer by the second with Din’s slick heat wrapped around him. He wraps a hand around the smooth beskar shoulder plate, using it as leverage to drive in hard and fast. Din is making the prettiest noises as he takes his cock, all  _ Fett _ and cursing and sometimes just moaning like all the breath is being fucked out of him. He tries to shove back against Boba, but he can’t get the right purchase. “That’s alright, sweetheart, you let me do all the work. I won’t leave you hanging,” he murmurs against the base of Din’s helmet, and smirks when Din  _ whimpers _ and goes still again, “Good boy.”

When Din comes, it’s with another breathless moan that shifts to something like a sigh of Boba’s name. That’s all it takes to push him over too, and with another few thrusts, he comes inside him, keeping his cock buried deep to enjoy the way Din clenches around him. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he murmurs, panting as he leans over him to catch his breath, “You’re so good for me.” He keeps praising Din quietly, rubbing little circles into the exposed skin at his hips before he finally pulls out. 

He wishes he could take a holo of this, Din bent over the table, dripping come and panting, debauched despite still being in nearly full beskar’gam… it’s an image that’ll stick with him for a long damned time, even if they part ways after this mission.

“You good?” he finally asks, cleaning himself up with a discarded rag to set his suit and armor back to rights, “I can go another round or two if you need it.” When Din doesn’t answer, he raises a brow and turns back, only to see the rude gesture he’s being given. “Fair enough. You know where the ‘freshers are.” He chuckles as he walks out, leaving Din behind to sort himself out. He’ll be fine.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is growing. This chapter is mostly Talking About Feelings And The Future, but there will be more smut in the next chapter! I'm going to keep it marked as 'complete' but there will be more coming! I have _plans._

“You gave Kryze the saber?” Boba cocks his head.

“She won it.”

“You let her.”

Din makes a sound that might have been a laugh once. “She wanted it more than I ever will.”

“You know she’s gonna come back and finish the job if she figures it out.”

Din makes that same choked laugh, and it twists something in Boba’s chest. 

“What are you gonna do now?”

Din sighs and looks up - even without seeing his eyes, Boba knows the grief that must be on his face as he stares at nothing. “I’ll go back to hunting. My covert needs credits to survive and care for the foundlings, even if I can’t go back.”

“I’m going back to Tattooine, so’s Fennec. I have unfinished business there. Come with us.” Boba doesn’t know why he’s asking, but he knows that kind of grief and loss, and Manda help him, he wants to help Din. “You’ve got no ship, no gear besides what you’re carrying. Come with me, I’ll train you, I’ll vouch for you with my Guild, you’ll have steady jobs - more than enough credits to send back - and somewhere to call home.” 

Din stares at him, wariness in the set of his shoulders. “What’s in it for you?” he asks quietly. Boba sees too much of himself in this kid, too used to being used and turned on by anyone who wasn’t his covert, and he wants to pretend that’s not why he’s doing this. One of the reasons, at least.

“I have my reasons,” he says, “But I’ll give you my word that I won’t let any harm come to you if I can stop it. That includes warning you off of drinking whatever engine degreaser Fennec calls  _ caff _ .” 

That gets a snort, and some of the tension eases out of his shoulders. “There’s something else, isn’t there?” 

“I’m not getting any younger. I want a clan of my own - I’ll be adopting foundlings, of course, but if you’re willing to, I’d like you to carry a few of ours too. You don’t have to answer now, and you’ll always be welcome in our home, but if you want the option, it’s there.” 

Din is silent for a while, and Boba starts to think he’s asked too early, that Din’s going to say _ no _ , or possibly  _ fuck no _ , but he finally says, “I… think I might like that.”

“Wow, that worked?” 

Both of them jump, and Boba glares at Fennec as she strolls in. “I told you I was going to handle it.”

“No, you told me you were going to ask him, and I told you to wait. How am I the only one with tact on this ship?”

“He agreed to it, didn’t he?”

She crosses her arms, looking to Din, her head cocked as she studies him. “You don’t have to say yes.”

He looks like he’s considering it, considering  _ her _ , and then he sighs. “I won’t be able to have a family within my covert. I chose my clan - my  _ son _ \- over my creed. That comes with consequences. I don’t know if I can ever go back. I want a family; it’s what I’ve always wanted but couldn’t have for a long time. If this is how I can, it’s what I’ll do,” he says, fierce and quiet. It;s more than Boba’s heard him say besides planning to breach the cruiser since their first conversation on Tython.

“Welcome to the family,” she says with a smirk and a pat to the cheek of his helmet, smirking when he rocks back to escape. She walks out again, leaving them alone, or at least appearing to.

Boba keeps his attention on Din. “I’m not asking you to sign your life away. I won’t control what you do. Your life is your own,” he says, “But I’ll take care of you, and our children.”

“That’s all I ask.” 

“Fennec will be there as well. She’ll be staying as my… right hand.”

Din cocks his head and asks, “Will she-”

“Won’t work,” she says cheerily, leaning on the doorway as she digs into what looks like a cup of yogurt - he doesn’t know where she got it and he doesn’t want to know, “Too risky, thanks to your little friend.” She gestures at her stomach and the cybernetics hidden beneath her belts.

“He tried to kill me too.”

“That seems to happen to you a lot. You should think about being more picky about your friends.”

“He wasn’t-” Din groans. “It’s going to be like this the whole time, isn’t it?”

Boba chuckles. “She only does it to people she likes. You’re practically family already.”

“Stop giving away my secrets,” Fennec grumbles, gesturing at him with her spoon, “You’ll make him think I’m soft.”

“Nobody is going to think you’re soft, Shand. Especially if they have to share a bunk with you. I have bruises from your elbows.”

She just rolls her eyes at him before she crosses the room to make herself comfortable on his lap, despite his half-hearted protests. “I sliced that Jedi’s comm code if you want it,” she says, passing a flimsi to Din, “And there’s a tracker on his ship. In case you want to know where he is.” She doesn’t smile, but there’s a tilt to the corners of her eyes that isn’t usually there.

Din stays quiet for a long time, and his voice is rough when he finally says, “Thank you.” His hand shakes as he crumples the flimsi from how tightly he’s gripping it, staring down at the code written there. 

They sit in companionable silence after that, until the alert sounds as they breach Tattooine’s atmosphere. 


End file.
